


Shave and a Haircut (and a Date)

by Neurotoxia



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hairdressing, Long Hair, M/M, Translation Available, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neurotoxia/pseuds/Neurotoxia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bard tried the new hairdresser out in the woods, he hadn't expected for his sexual frustration to grow as much as his hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shave and a Haircut (and a Date)

**Author's Note:**

> This was certainly one of my crackier premises to work with. Naturally, I couldn't resist the challenge of an AU like this ;)
> 
> A lovely reader took the time and translated this piece into Chinese, available [HERE](http://www.movietvslash.com/thread-154063-1-1.html) (registration required) and HERE.

"You should let it grow out more,“ Thranduil mused, threading his fingers though Bard’s towel-dry locks.

"More?“ asked Bard, incredulous. „It’s touching my shoulders already!"

„Another two or three inches. It would look good,“ Thranduil almost purred, working a lavender-scented balm into Bard’s hair to detangle the strands, then arming himself with the dryer.

„Oh fine,“ Bard sighed, defenceless against that tone from Thranduil. He was ridiculous, melting into his chair like that, just because the man paid him a compliment.

Sexual frustration wasn’t what he’d signed up for when he’d passed the cabin in the woods on his way to the archery range two years ago. The cabin had been empty for some time, but was now renovated and expanded in a way that was understated, yet screamed ‚money!‘ from a mile away. A new sign made from wood and brass close to the road spelled ‚Mirkwood Hair & Barber Shop‘. An odd place for a salon, Bard had thought, so far out in the neck of the woods. Laketown was eight miles down the road and it was even further till the next dwelling up north. Nevertheless, he made a mental note to give it a try – the barber in Laketown was atrocious. This lumberjack barber couldn’t be worse.

The barber and hairdresser in ‚Mirkwood‘ was as far as one could get from lumberjack: he looked like an _elf_ straight out of the pages of one of Sigrid’s fantasy books. Long, silvery smooth hair falling all the way down his back, sharp blue eyes, cheekbones to die for and _good god_ , he was tall. Taller than Bard even and with a strong, lithe frame instead of lanky. He'd introduced himself as Thranduil and Bard had known he was in trouble. The deep voice had been the last nail in his coffin.

With help from his assistant Tauriel, Thranduil had trimmed Bard’s beard, given the rest a decent shave, clipped his hair (after talking him into letting it grow for a bit 'to compliment his jawline‘) and had shown him how to properly style his errand curls. It had taken an hour and hadn’t even been costly – actually not much more expensive than the trimming you got at the barber shop in town. And if Sigrid’s and Tilda's slack-jawed astonishment had been anything to go by, it had been money well spent. Sigrid had pretty much bullied him into going back there in the future.

That had been two years ago and since then, Bard had learned quite a bit about Thranduil. A lot of it thanks to Google (seriously, who googled their hairdresser?). Thranduil used to be an icon in the world of hair dressing. He’d had a sleek, modern hair palace smack in the middle of the capital with customers ranging from celebrities to royalty. Some months before his appearance in Bard’s woods, Thranduil (nearly literally) abandoned his establishment over night, just to have it taken over by some hair big shot called Sauron. Bard felt guilty about reading hours worth of gossip rags, fashion blogs and women’s magazines, but the pictures of Thranduil alone were worth it. He looked better than most of the super models he used to style.

From Thranduil himself he’d learnt he was a single dad like Bard and that he preferred the isolated cabin in the woods over the sleek glass structure. His job had made city life necessary, but Thranduil had always liked being surrounded by nature. Bard thought life around here must still be boring to someone as ritzy as Thranduil, but Tauriel had once said something about burnout, so maybe boring was what Thranduil needed. Thranduil’s teenage son Legolas went to boarding school up north and visited during the weekends. Tauriel lived some miles away in Erebor with her boyfriend (who Thranduil did not like at all). Bard wondered if Thranduil was lonely after the last customer and Tauriel had left for the day – with three kids in a small house, Bard had no idea anymore what silence sounded like or how to watch a football match without having to wrestle the remote from the kids when they tried to switch the channel. In case Thranduil did feel lonely, Bard would very much like to keep him company.

Dream on, Bowman.

„You should be more careful with the shaving, Bard. Ingrown hairs again,“ Thranduil chided and trailed his fingers over Bard’s cheeks.

Not that Bard hoped for ingrown hairs just to have Thranduil’s fingers stroking his face. Not at all.

„We can’t all have super smooth and even skin like you,“ Bard grinned. Was Thranduil blushing?

„I should charge you extra for giving me trouble."

„I already let my hair grow out for you – erm, I mean I let you talk me into it. If anything, you’re giving me trouble.“ Smooth, Bowman. What are you, sixteen?

„No one is forcing you to listen to me,“ Thranduil smirks. „But your girlfriend –or boyfriend, perhaps?– will thank me one day."

„I have neither girlfriend nor boyfriend,“ Bard grumbled.

„Still not?“ Thranduil sighed. „Such a waste."

„I have three kids. They tend to take up a lot of your free time, sparse as it is.“ He wouldn’t mind having a certain blond, single father for a boyfriend though.

„But just imagine: a girlfriend or boyfriend can just sink their hands into your hair and hold on while you pin them onto the bed,“ Thranduil now purred in earnest and sinks his own long fingers into Bard’s hair for a first-hand demonstration of his point, looking almost predatory into the mirror. Bard felt the heat rushing to his face _and_ his crotch. Bloody hell, he was so scre–

„Oh for the love of god, will you two please go on a date finally? I can cut the sexual tension in this room with an axe and I don’t get enough tips to deal with this!“ Tauriel called from the counter, arms thrown up in mock despair. Bard lifted his gaze back to Thranduil in the mirror who was now smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

„Well, Bard…if Tauriel commands it: would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

„I…“ Bard stammered, face growing a deeper shade of pink. „Yes."

Later that night, Bard learnt all about the advantages of having hands buried in your long hair. It looked like he’d need to pay Tauriel bigger tips in the future.


End file.
